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” she said. “I care about those men coming back to my stairwell.”
She looked at Lenora.
“He’s right. We don’t stay.”
There it was.
The sentence that cut through pride better than any threat.
Lenora looked at her mother.
Then her daughter.
Then the papers on the desk.
The whole shop smelled of wet leaves, cold roses, and the gardenias by the register.
Home.
Work.continue reading …
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